


Mother's Day

by Sam_Eller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother fluff, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Bullies, Family, Gen, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Mother's Day, One-Shot, Protective Dean, Teenchesters, sam and dean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Eller/pseuds/Sam_Eller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have always done Mother's Day a little differently, and when some school bullies take issue with that, the brothers set them straight. Teenchesters. One-Shot. Hurt/Sad/Sam and Protective/Caring/Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

Note: This was supposed to be up a couple days ago...but life just didn't go the way it was supposed to, as per usual. Hope you like it! :)

* * *

I hated libraries.

They were stuffy and dusty.

The were disturbingly quiet and packed full of nerds.

I would never understand why my little brother enjoyed spending so much time in them .

Except Sam wasn't even around this time. He was at school, so it was just me hanging out in the boring building.

I was researching our next hunt.

Dad had called this morning and said he would be back in a couple days and wanted me to start gathering info for the next hunt.

Sam was only fifteen and still in school, so the lucky little shit got out of library duty.

The really sad part was...he would have loved to be the one doing the research.

I snickered to myself as I thought of my dorky little brother, shaking my head as I flipped through the latest book.

I was interrupted from the riveting read at the sound of my cellphone.

Ignoring the death-glare I was receiving from the librarian, I flipped my phone open and answered it.

"Hello."

"Is this Dean Winchester?"

I stalled at the question. I didn't recognize the voice and apparently it didn't recognize mine either.

Not many people had my number. Besides Dad, Sam, a handful of hunters, and a few very attractive women, nobody had my number.

"Who's asking?" I replied gruffly.

"This is Principal Mathers. You were the contact listed for a Samuel Winchester."

"What happened?" I questioned, cutting to the chase as I rose from my seat and made my way out of the library toward the Impala.

"Samuel-

"It's Sam." I corrected automatically.

"Sorry, Sam was in a fight today and we would like-

"Is he okay?" I questioned, my concern apparent as I started the car and directed it towards the high school.

"All the boys are a little banged up, but nothing major. Now I would like-

"I'm on my way." I informed the woman briskly as I closed my cell and pushed my foot down harder on the accelerator.

A few short minutes later I was pulling into the school parking lot and marching into the building, making my way immediately to the office, the one I had visited on our first day in town when I had come to register Sammy.

There, on a chair right outside, were three older boys, all nursing various wounds.

I smirked at the sight.

It looked like my wiry little brother had done some serious damage.

I counted three black eyes, two split lips, a missing tooth, and a number of bruises.

"Where's Sam?" I asked.

The secretary nodded toward the principal's office and I headed straight for it.

I didn't bother knocking before swinging the door open.

My eyes scanned the room, searching until they found the only thing that mattered.

My little brother.

He was seated on chair across the desk from the principal.

I ignored the inquiries being made by the older woman seated at the head of the room and made a beeline for Sam.

He glanced up at me from under all that hair that was hanging before his eyes.

I squatted down and gently, but firmly, grasped his chin and angled his face up in my direction.

He had a hand towel held to his still-bleeding nose, a dark bruise colouring his left cheekbone, and a split lip that was leaking blood down his chin and neck onto his shirt.

"You alright?" I questioned quietly.

Sam's eyes skidded over my face before falling back down to his lap as he nodded his head.

I released his chin and gave his knee a gentle pat before moving to stand.

"What happened?" I directed my inquiry at the principal.

"From what I can gather, Sam had a disagreement with the three boys in the hall and they decided to settle it in a violent manner. All you brother will tell me as that he started the fight. None of these boys care to admit what it is they were so upset about."

I frowned at the information.

Sam was never the first one to start a fight.

And he also wasn't one to not answer questions from a figure of authority.

"What's the punishment?"

I just wanted to get to the point and then get my little brother back to the motel, find out what really went down, and patch him up.

"Sam is a good student and I think more went on then anyone cares to tell me, but we have a a strict no tolerance policy when it comes to violence. So all for boys will be suspended for the remainder of the week."

I winced, it was only Monday and Sam hated missing school, let alone an entire week of it, but I didn't argue because I knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Fine. Are we good to go?"

The older woman looked put off by my brisk question, but she nodded nonetheless.

I grabbed my brother's backpack off the floor and slung it over my shoulder as I watched him slowly stand from the chair.

I frowned, clearly his face wasn't the only thing those assholes messed up.

I followed Sam as he shuffled to the door and then paused when he did and watched as he glanced back into the room.

"Sorry again Ms. Mathers."

The principal's face softened as she nodded in reply.

I smirked.

Even when he was in trouble the kid could still get anyone he wanted to fall for those puppy dog eyes.

I softly nudged Sam forward and shadowed him out into the hall.

I turned murderously towards the three boys hunched over in their chairs, but before I could rip any bodily organs out by way of their gullets, I felt bony fingers wrap around my wrist.

I glanced over at they young man gripping my arm.

"Sam-

"Don't Dean. They aren't worth it. Just don't."

"But-

"I already did. Trust me. They are worse off than I am."

Not kicking the ever-loving-shit out of these three scumbags went against every bone in my body.

But when Sam tugged on my wrist and looked up at me from under all that damn hair with those damn eyes...I knew I didn't have much of a choice.

The principal wasn't the only one who crumbled at that expression.

I nodded, indicating my agreement.

Sam looked relieved as he released my arm and proceeded to make his way out of the building.

I waited until my brother was a few paces away before turning toward the three teenager, giving them the darkest most lethal look I could muster as I towered over them.

"You ever lay a hand on Sam, or fucking speak to him ever again, I will tear you to pieces. You understand me?" I seethed, enjoying the spark of fear I saw in every pair of eyes looking up at me.

I didn't wait for any sort of response, knowing perfectly well by their terrified expressions that my message had been clearly received.

"Was that really necessary?" Sam asked as we exited the building and strolled toward the Impala sitting sleek and shiny in the parking lot.

"You're damn right it was necessary. It's all I can do not to storm back in there and rip their lungs out." I growled.

Sam sighed, shaking his head in exasperation before dropping heavily into the passenger seat.

I waited until he had pulled his legs into the vehicle before shutting his door, not failing to hear the kid mutter:

"Could have done that myself."

I rolled my eyes at the petulant teenage attitude as I dropped in behind the wheel.

"Keep pressure on your nose." I instructed softly, nodding to the towel that had remained bunched up in Sam's hand since we left the principal's office, allowing the blood to continue to trail down his face.

He huffed, but did as I requested.

We sat in silence on the way back to the motel, Sam only bothering to speak once I had the Impala parked in front of our room.

"Dean I-

"Shut up Sam. We are going to inside, patch you up, and then you are going to tell me what the hell happened at school today." I dictated, utilizing my most parental tone.

Sam scowled, he never was a fan of being told what to do, but he made no objection as he climbed from the car.

"I can carry that." My brother declared as I grabbed his backpack.

"Sure you can." I agreed, refusing to hand the bag over as I waited for the young boy to go inside.

Sam sent me an irritated look before opening the door.

I dropped his book-bag on the floor and grabbed the medkit from the bathroom along with a clean hand-towel and a damp face-cloth.

"Now sit your ass on the bed and let me take a look at you." I ordered calmly, knowing I was pushing my luck with all the demands I was making.

"I can do it." Sam announced, reaching for the kit.

"Yeah I know. Now sit down." I stated flatly.

"Dean-

"Sammy, I get it okay?! You can fight your own battles, you can close your own doors, you can carry your own shit, and you can fix yourself up. I get it! Now just sit down would you?"

I hadn't intended to snap. But my frustration level was rising and I just really wanted to clean all the damn blood off my kid's face.

Surprisingly, Sam shut his mouth and sat down on the edge of his bed, his eyes on the floor as he awaited my ministrations.

I tugged a chair over and sat down across from the lanky teen, out knees nearly touching as I placed three fingers under his chin and pushed them up until I could get a clear view of the young face.

First things first, stop the bleeding.

I tugged Sam's hand away, he got the hint and removed the cloth from where he had it pressed against his nose.

I frowned at the amount of blood coating the fabric and smeared across the kid's face and neck.

My little brother's blood had always run far too thin.

Dad and I had thick dark blood that clotted easily.

Sam's was thin, bright red, and often refused to clot.

And I really fucking hated it.

I took the bloodied fabric from the teen's hand, but noticing that it was soaked all the way through I tossed it on the floor and grabbed the fresh towel.

Sam flinched when I pinched his nose hard.

"Sorry I have to-

"Stop the bleeding. I know. Don't worry about it." He muttered in a nasally tone.

We sat in silence for a few minutes until the bleeding stopped.

"Finally." I grumbled as I used the newly-red stained towel to dab at the blood trickling from my brother's lip. I applied a single butterfly bandage to the split lip, content that it would do the job and keep it from continuing to bleed.

I used the damp facecloth to wash away all signs of blood from Sam's face and neck, instructing him to take off his shirt, that was also covered in the fluid.

"Shit Sammy." I cursed, once I caught sight of the bruises marring my little brother's torso.

"It's not as bad as it looks." He mumbled.

"Bullshit." I spat, my anger rising as I could distinctly make out the imprints of shoes on the the kid's skin.

With a deft touch I trailed my fingers over the discoloured area, satisfied that nothing seemed to be broken or dangerously damaged.

I moved to the small kitchenette to get ice, all the while working to swallow my rage so I wouldn't race back to that school and rip those bastards apart.

I returned with two ice-packs, supplies that we always kept on hand for various hunting injuries. I placed one in Sam's hand and nudged it toward his face, he obediently held it up against his bruised cheekbone. I then lifted the teen's legs up onto the bed, ignoring his squawk of defiance as I propped him up on pillows and had him lie back, only then placing the second ice-pack on the darkest part of his abdomen.

Sam's body remained tense for a moment as it adjusted to the cold, but soon started to relax as the ice-pack did it's job.

"Any other injuries that I can't see?"

My brother shook his head in reply.

"Good."

I tossed the two bloodied towels into the trash, dropped the facecloth into the sink and put the first-aid kit away before dropping down onto the bed next to Sam's knobby knees.

"Now you want to tell me what the hell happened today?" I questioned, although it came out sounding much more like a demand.

I could see Sam contemplating, probably deciding whether or not to try and argue his way out of relaying what happened. I set my features and gave the kid a stern look, to physically display the fact that that would not be happening.

My brother sighed, our silent communication with each other coming across loud and clear.

"You know how yesterday was Mother's Day?" He started.

"Yeah."

I hadn't forgotten. We spent the day the same way we had nearly every year.

Dad was never around for this particular holiday, which was more than understandable, so Sam and I would always spend the day hanging out together. We would order pizza and watch movies, maybe even go out if we could afford it. We would spend the day just being brothers, taking a break from the hunting world.

I think our mother would have liked that, if she were still around.

I remembered the very first Mother's Day Sam had experienced. He came home from kindergarten on the Friday before with a hundred and one questions.

Why don't we have a Mom?

Where did she go?

What was she like?

What do mom's do?

I had tried to get him to stop asking, tell him not to worry about it, but Sam had always been a stubborn little bitch and he refused to let it go.

So I was eventually forced to tell him the basics.

Our Mom died, that's why she isn't here.

She was beautiful and smart and kind and she loved you.

Mom's make you dinner, they pack your lunch, they tuck you in, they sing you to sleep, they hang all your art on the fridge even if it's shitty, they love you no matter what, and they make sure you are always clean and happy.

I could so easily recall the sight of Sam sitting on the bed, hazel eyes as wide as they could get, with every ounce of his attention focused on me.

"Dean?"

I returned my concentration to the boy seated in front of me. Older than the little muntchkin I was remembering, but still so young and so damn small.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm listening."

"Well on Friday our teacher made us write an essay about...about our mothers." Sam stated softly.

I nodded knowingly.

School really made that day a hell of a lot worse.

Every Mother's Day assignment my little brother ever had to do was addressed to me. Every year I would get a card with his sloppily traced hand-print, a poem, a drawing, or some form of art. Instead of "Happy Mother's Day" it would read "Happy Brother's Day."

Every year Sam would be beaming with glee as he presented me with his assignment.

Every year I would accept the gift, read and admire it carefully before tucking it into the bottom of my duffel.

Every year...except this one.

"Did you do it?" I questioned, because I knew that when it came to those particularly painful assignments, my preference had always been to accept a failing grade and not put myself through that kind of despair.

But of course, this was Sam.

"Yeah, I did it." He admitted in a whisper.

"Okay, so how did any of this lead to you kicking ass?" I wondered aloud.

Sam smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing just...thanks for saying that." He said with a shy grin.

"Hey man, I'm just stating the facts here. Now it's your turn. What the hell happened?"

Sam took a deep breath, pulling the ice-pack from his face before continuing.

"It was at lunch. The teacher had just handed back our essays and I was looking at my mark on the way to the lunch room when Darren came up and ripped my paper right out of my hands."

"Darren was one of those guys I saw sitting in the office?"

"Yeah, the other two were Eric and Jackson, his friends."

I nodded, understanding that school bullies rarely walked alone.

"Anyway, Darren started reading it out loud...and he wouldn't give it back, and then they started saying things...and I just...I don't know, I guess I just snapped." He explained.

"What were they saying?" I inquired, not demanding an answer, but simply curious as to what it was that got my peace-loving little brother to throw the first punch.

Sam shrugged.

"Just stuff."

"Come on Sammy. I know you. You're a lover not a fighter."

The teen smirked at my comment, but remained silent.

"You can tell me." I assured.

"Only if you promise not to get mad and go rip their lungs out." Sam said, his tone slightly amused, but still serious.

"I can't promise that. Not until you tell me what they said."

"You can Dean. And you will. Or I won't tell you."

Like I said, stubborn little bitch.

"Fine." I agreed reluctantly, because I wanted to know what had upset my kid brother so much, more than I wanted revenge.

Besides, Sam did just fine on his own at teaching those douchebags a lesson.

"Promise."

"I promise."

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Stuff about how I don't have a mom. How she probably left after getting one look at my ugly mug. About how she'd probably be embarrassed to have such a pansy for a son...about how it was good that she left so she wasn't around to see how pathetic I am."

With each word that fell from my little brother's mouth, rage spread like wildfire through my veins. My fists clenched and body tense as I listened.

Not only did those assholes have the nerve to mention our mother, who was a sacred topic to say the least, but they dared to blame Sammy, to hurt him like that.

"Dean, you promised."

I took a few deep breaths, relaxing my muscles a little more with every exhale and stuffing the rage back down.

"You know none of that's true right Sam?"

My brother ducked his head, which was in no way convincing.

"Hey! Look at me." I ordered gruffly.

Sam's hazel eyes travelled up slowly until they met mine.

"Mom loved you. And she'd be proud of you Sammy."

My brother's eyes lit up with hope, joy, and relief as he absorbed my words.

"Even though you are a total dork." I added nonchalantly.

I was desperate to escape this chic-flick moment. It was necessary, but all this talk of Mom had a lump growing in my throat, and I would _not_ burst into tears like a little girls.

Especially not in front of my kid brother.

"Three against one though dude, that's pretty impressive. You went all Rambo on their asses." I declared with a smile as I stood from the bed.

Sam chuckled in response.

"They were pretty surprised." He admitted.

"Ha! No kidding. Who would suspect that such a wiry kid could pack such a punch."

My brother rolled his eyes, but his grin never faded.

"You want some pizza? There's some of that fruity shit left over from last night."

"It's Hawaiin." Sam corrected me, teenage exasperation coming through loud and clear.

"Whatever you say Samantha." I quipped.

"Get me two slices." My brother ordered, groaning as he reached for the remote control.

"I'm sorry, when did I become your maid?" I asked, already headed to the fridge to pull out the food.

"The second I was born." Sam shot back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

I barked out a surprised laugh, grabbing two cans of coke and the leftover pizza and dropping down on the bed next to my brother.

We spent the rest of the day camped out in front of the television.

Since he was going to be home from school for several days, Sam offered to do the research for the next hunt, and for that I let him have the last slice of pizza.

My brother was exhausted and dropped off to sleep during the fifth episode of Bonanza.

I carefully double-checked Sam's injuries, careful not to wake the teen before pulling the comforter up over his lanky frame.

I checked the salt lines and the locks before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed, when I came out a few moments later, my little brother was sound asleep and there was a piece of paper sitting on my pillow.

I picked it up, registering the wrinkles and tears, realizing that this must been the essay the was fought over.

I sat on the edge of my bed, facing Sam's sleeping form as I read it.

_I don't have a mother. She died when I was a baby. Honestly, I can't remember a single thing about her. The only things I know about my mother are things that I have been told, or things I have picked up on._

_I have seen a picture or two and I know that she was beautiful. I know that my brother looks more like her than I do. I know that she was kind and smart, I have been told as much. By the way my dad and brother miss her, by the way they get quiet and sad when they talk about her, I know that she was special. I know that she loved them and that they still love her. And just because I don't remember her, it doesn't mean that I don't love her to, because I do._

_I may not have a mother, but that doesn't mean I don't have someone who looks after me. Someone who makes me dinner and packs my lunch. Someone who sits up with me at night when I'm sick and keeps a cool cloth on my forehead. Someone who pulls the blankets over me and tucks me in at night. Someone who wakes me from nightmares and hums out loud until I can fall back asleep._

_I might not have a mom, but I have someone who makes a big deal out of my accomplishments even when they are just stupid little things. Someone who always forced me to take a bath and brush my teeth, even when I didn't want to. Someone who would play the same childish games and read the same lame books to me over and over again. Someone who taught me how to read and tie my shoes. Someone who would hold my hand when we crossed the street and would lecture me if I ran too far ahead. Someone who would pick me up when I fell and make me smile so I would feel better._

_I have someone who always puts me first. Someone who protects me and helps me even when I insist that I can do things myself. Someone who always does everything possible to keep me safe and tries hard to make me happy without ever asking for anything in return. Someone who always listens to me no matter how annoying I'm being. Someone who never stops caring about me, no matter how stubborn or angry I am. Someone who knows me better than I know myself._

_I have someone who is always there for me, no matter what._

_I have someone who I can always count on._

_I have someone who loves me without condition._

_His name is Dean._

I briskly wiped away the tears threatening to slip from my watery eyes before carefully folding the paper and moved to my duffel bag, pulling an envelope out from the bottom and sliding the latest Mother's Day assignment inside, to join the rest of them.

I had kept every one.

I returned the envelope to it's secure place in my bag and then moved back onto my bed and lied back.

As I stretched out on the mattress and turned to face my sleeping little brother. I couldn't stop thinking about Sam's essay.

Those simple words had my heart both swelling and aching.

I was not only reminded of how much I loved my little brother, but of how much he loved me, how much I meant to him, how much Sam needed me. That reminder alone made it difficult to breathe and sent warmth flooding through my body.

But, it killed me that my little brother didn't know what it was like to have a mother.

That he didn't know how my mac&cheese was shit compared to our mom's homecooking.

He didn't know that my compliments and encouragements weren't nearly as effective as our mother's gentle praise and loving kisses.

He didn't know that my Metallica humming was not nearly as soothing as our mom's lullabies.

He didn't know that my patience didn't hold a candle to our mother's kindness.

Sam didn't know how awful of a replacement I was for our mom.

And he never would.

And that hurt more than I could ever express.

But it made me all the more determined to be the best brother I could possibly be, because Sammy deserved that.

He deserved to be cared for.

He deserved to be protected.

He deserve to be loved.

He had been deprived of enough.

A normal childhood.

A home.

A Mother.

I wasn't going to let the world rob my little brother of one more thing.

Not one fucking thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please review/comment if you have a moment. - Sam


End file.
